When The Smoke Clears
by ThatClutzsarahh
Summary: Years after the war has ended, Hermione is hoping to write the piece of her career and goes in search for the one man who is hoping to forget it all
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first Dramione fic published here! Please, I hope you enjoy! And please please please, tell me what you think!**

**I own nothing but the typos :)**

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><p>When The Smoke Clears<p>

"_Yes, could I please speak with Mr. Draco Malfoy? This is Hermione Granger from the Daily Prophet."_

"_I'm sorry ma'am, he no longer lives here."_

Years after the war has ended, Hermione is hoping to write the piece of her career and goes in search for a man who is hoping to forget it all.

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><p>Hermione slammed down the phone again and crossed off the address that she was given on the piece of paper. It's the fourth call she's made re-guarding his residence and it's the fourth time she's been told that he no longer lives there. She knows she's on the right trail, because there is only one Draco Malfoy in the world. No one would want to name their children after that name. Not after everything that's <em>happened<em>.

Hermione sighed and looked down at the shambles of her article on her desk. Bits and pieces were complete, a few interviews from other Slytherins, a photo here and there, but nothing like the one thing she wanted. She wanted to hear what happened from the one person (besides herself, Ron and Harry) who was in the center of it all. She wanted to hear _that_ side of things.

She needed Malfoy's interview.

It wasn't ideal, that's for sure, to ask for Malfoy's help. And he was more than allowed to decline it. But she was hoping, and somewhat praying that he'd allow her the chance to be spoken too, even if he were to speak down to her. As long as he gave her something of a tale she'd be perfectly fine. Looking down on her desk, she looked at the last address.

_Karmellie Lane, La Bourboule France_

There was no number or address, just a lane and a town for the place. That meant she'd have to spend the rest of the day just getting there. With a sigh, she picked up the address and stuffed it into her expanding purse along with a few quills and her notes for the article, before stepping out and towards her bosses office. She knocked on the wood door and was greeted with a loud 'Come in' followed by the door opening.

"Can I help you Hermione?" said the old man behind the desk, not lifting his eyes from the toy he was playing with on the desk.

"I'm going out to do some research, for that article," Hermione said, "I'd thought I'd let you know before I left."

"You found Mr. Malfoy, I presume?" the man picked up his head and looked over his glasses to her.

"Well," Hermione huffed, "It's the last address I have. If it doesn't work out I'll be back before the end of the day. If it is him, I'll send you an owl."

The old gray man smiled at her kindly.

"See you later then," he said, "And good luck, I hope you found your man!"

Hermione closed the door and started toward the exit. She grabbed her jacket and scarf that hung by the door before stepping out into the designated apparating room. Tucking her scarf around her neck, she thought of the small village in France and quickly disappeared into the stale air of the daily prophet.

The warm sun filled the tiny village when Hermione regained her footing. Finding her balance she inhaled the clean air, the scent of crisp clear water filling her nostrils. She exhaled a heavy sigh, even the scent of the air felt homey, like when she would return from Hogwarts to her parents house. It made Hermione feel young again.

She took in the small village shops and, upon further inspection discovered the town to be muggle, with muggle cafes and bookstores and shady umbrellas at outdoor tables. Looking up and down the streets she could tell it was late afternoon, and, after glancing at her watch for confirmation discovered it to be around 4 o clock, late for a small rural town. Straight out her scarf (now blistering her skin in warmth) Hermione wandered into the nearest building, a small neat cafe with a very petite woman behind the counter, hurriedly rearranging scones.

"Bon Jour," the woman said and after a pause in noticing she was a stranger spoke again in english, "Hello. Can I help you?"

"I'm afraid I'm lost," Hermione feigned, "I'm looking for a Karmellie Lane?"

"You are looking for Mr. Malfoy, no?"

Hermione nodded. The woman smiled at her.

"Yes," she said, "He is the only one who lives on that street. To get to his house I'm afraid it takes a half a day's walk or an hour in car."

"Do you know a place where I can rent a car perhaps?" Hermione asked, feeling silly to the obvious elephant in the room.

The woman laughed and smiled, bushing a lock of brunette hair back out of her face.

"My husband would be happy to take you. Jean!"

From behind the cafe counter, the swinging kitchen door opened to reveal a fair haired man with a strong jaw and kind eyes. The man looked over to his wife and smiled at her. She spoke for a moment in fluent, beautiful french before the man looked over at Hermione and nodded his head with a small smile.

"I would be honored to take you to Mr. Malfoy's house," he said with a very thick french accent. Hermione smiled at him.

"Thank you," she said, tucking her bag up her shoulder and removing her sweltering scarf and stuffing it in the bag. Jean removed his apron and grabbed the keys off the hook by the counter. He stepped aside and held the door open for Hermione before he ducked out behind her. He clicked the remote button to the small blue fiat parked over by the side of the building.

Once they both settled into the car, the man turned over the engine and started toward the edge of the village.

"Are you," he started, pausing to gather what he wanted to say in english, "Have you come to be his new care taker?"

Hermione kept quiet for a moment. Caretaker? Malfoy needed a caretaker?

"No," Hermione said with a smile, "I'm a, a family friend."

"Oh," he said, "They have never spoken of family."

Hermione smiled, "Not really family," she recovered, "Family from Hogwarts."

"I understand," he agreed, not wanting to push the subject. Hermione nodded her head and went back to staring out the window. The golden autumn light bounced of the dead grass, making the rolling hills look like gold fabric with glittering hints of silk thread woven between them. Tall branchy trees swayed in the wind. slowly the golden rolling hills turned into rolling hills of green vines, long rows of a vineyard stretching as far as the eye could see. In the warm sunlight everything seemed to have almost a romantic glimmer to it and Hermione could not picture Malfoy living somewhere as pleasant as this.

They had been driving for about an hour before Hermione saw the first glimpses of a house off in the distance. It wasn't actually the house she saw first but the glittering sparkling water of a lake, clearly not there by natural accident. Nestled between the rolling expanse of the vineyards was an off white mansion with a beautiful garden and sprawling meadow of golden grass. Hermione couldn't stifle the gasp that escaped her lips. It was beautiful.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Jean said, "Mr. Malfoy has made quite a beautiful home out of this valley."

"How long has he been here?" Hermione asked, watching out the window as the car began driving down the long road toward the beautiful gates.

"Eh, it's hard to say," he said, "Quite some time now. He rarely comes into town. I've seen him but a few times. His wife comes into town. Beautiful blonde girl she is and his daughter is just _bella_-beautiful."

So Malfoy was married, and had a _daughter_. Hermione reminded herself to ask him about his family life. Maybe he wasn't as strange as this choice of lifestyle. As they approached the mansion, she got a better look at the house. It was a beautiful white mansion with arc paneled windows and tall romantic columns that lined the round porch. Two bronze snake statues sat near the top of the circular driveway, nestled comfortably between shrubs. Jean pulled up to the gates, and Hermione was perfectly content with just pressing the call box when they opened and he drove in.

"Thank you," Hermione said to the man, "For everything."

The man smiled at her. "Good luck," he said and with that she closed the door and watched him drive off.

Turning back to the house, Hermione sighed, staring up at the tall home. It was large, sure, but she was not intimidated by it's size. It seemed, almost cozy. Shoving her bag up her shoulder a little bit more, she climbed up the steps and onto the shaded porch. She noticed the beautiful knockers on the door and let her fingers run over the gold plates before lifting one to find them surprisingly heavy. She let it fall, hear the knock become a beautiful melody of chimes inside the house. There was a clatter somewhere in the place and it was only moments before the door was opened.

A small house elf blinked up at her.

"Hello," Hermione said cheerfully, "Is there anyone home who I can speak too?"

The elf moved aside and pulled the door open wider, allowing Hermione into the grand entrance way, where two wide sweeping staircases greeted the marble white floor. In the center of the room was a grand statue, a horse leaping out from what looked like a curling wave, it's mane flowing backwards. She gazed in awe at the massive piece of art work, the details were so incredible-

She was interrupted by a small tug on her hand. She looked down to see the timid elf trying to catch her attention. She smiled at the creature as it started walking away, glancing back to make sure Hermione was following. The elf lead her along the back of the mansion, large paneled windows displayed the backyard and glittering lake, letting warm light leak onto the carpet, spilling over with color. The elf stopped and it was just then that Hermione heard the soft sound of a piano playing. The elf looked up at her, and, in an effort to open the doors, showed Hermione that it was just too small to reach these handles. Hermione smiled.

"Thank you," she said before placing a hand on the door. Twisting the knob she pushed aside the white door and entered.

A beautiful blonde woman sat by a white piano over by the window at the other end of the enormous room. Bookcases from floor to ceiling lined the walls. Green plush couches and chairs were scattered by reading lamps and gold leaf-lined tables. tucked away in the corner was a beautiful white piano. The woman's hair was in cascading curls down her back, picture perfect ringlets that fells down the length of her back, bent over the ivory keys of the piano. She was playing a beautiful melody Hermione had never heard before. Her long dark eyelashes swept over her cheeks. _This must be Draco's wife,_ Hermione thought gazing at how pretty she was.

She stopped playing when the door behind Hermione creaked an then clamored shut. Startled, the woman looked up from the keys, turning her face. Hermione couldn't see the other half of her face because it was hidden in shadow, but the girl looked familiar.

"Hermione?" she said, her voice soft and airy. The woman stood up tall and elegant and approached her. As she drew closer Hermione could see it. There was a long thick deep scar running the length of her face, cutting through her eye and across her cheek where it was joined by a swathe of criss crossed scars, healed, but still gruesome to look at. She smiled at Hermione as she got closer and Hermione could place her.

"Daphne?" she said astonished, "Daphne Greengrass? You're Malfoy's wife?"

She laughed, a golden bell laugh, "Merlin no!" she said, "I'm his care taker."

Hermione gave her a wiry smile.

What was going on here?

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><p>What do you think? Leave me a review please!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you my lovely one reviewer, for reviewing this tale! I have written another chapter, perhaps more people will read it :) **

**I own the typos only.**

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><p>With shaky hands Hermione accepted the cup of tea that Daphne had offered her. She then sat down gracefully across from her and folded one leg over the other, completely at ease. Daphne waited for Hermione to take a sip of her tea before she smiled at her.<p>

"What brings you here?" Daphne said politely, "Last I heard you were working for the prophet."

"I still am," Hermione said with a nod, "I'm here actually for work."

Daphne's eyes narrowed.

"And what is the prophet going to slander next about the Malfoy name, hm? He's been nothing but quiet all these years and they _still_ send someone after him! I thought you better, Hermione-"

"I'm not here to slander anyone Daphne," Hermione said in defense, "I'm here to hear his view of the war."

Daphne, who had stood up, turned back around to face Hermione. The look on her face was priceless.

"His side?" she gasped, not believing the words Hermione spoke. Hermione nodded.

"Yes," she said, "His side. I've got a few other classmates of ours that were former death eaters but he has a more...personal connection than the rest. I'd like to speak with him, if that's all right."

"You may very well go and speak _to_ him," Daphne sighed, "But if you were to converse with him, well I'm afraid that's not possible."

"What do you mean?"

Daphne looked at Hermione gravely, her eyes darkening from their light emerald to a dark forest green.

"Hermione," she said, "Things are...different since the war. You know that-"

"I understand-"

"Good," Daphne said, "I'm glad you understand that. But you don't understand. Malfoy is... well he is, but he isn't."

"I'm afraid I'm confused," Hermione said, "Are you saying he's sick?"

"Yes," Daphne said, "He is very _very_ ill. So ill he isn't really _here_."

Hermione's brow furrowed.

"Mentally," Daphne said, sighing, "He's not here mentally. If he were to find out that you were here to write something about him, I think, quite possibly he might break."

Hermione sat quietly in thought. What had happened to him? He was nothing like the man she envisioned, sitting on his pompous arse with a silver crown plopped upon his large head and smirk on his lips. She envisioned him calling her names and throwing her out, laughing as he did so. But now, she hadn't even _seen_ him.

"I'm sorry Hermione," Daphne said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Hermione smiled.

"Maybe I could stick around, just for a while? Observing I mean," she said, "We can tell Malfoy I'm here to become his caretaker. I know a thing or too about being a mediwitch myself."

Daphne puckered her lips. "Well I really do need the time off, Graham would certainly enjoying seeing his family together again..."

Hermione looked at her. "Graham, Montague?" she asked. Daphne smiled.

"Yes," she said, "He's my husband."

Hermione gaped at her. Daphne was so beautiful, and Montague was just so _horrid._ Even though she hadn't had much contact with him, the man was notorious for getting in trouble. But then again he seemed to have dropped off the radar about 7 years ago, around the same time Malfoy did...

"Con-congratulations," Hermione said, trying to recover her composure. Daphne smiled knowingly and poured herself a cup of tea.

"I know it's not ideal," she began, "But he's actually quite the gentleman-"

"Why doesn't he stay here, with you?"

Daphne smiled and laughed a bit, a bell like laughed at resounded beautifully in the room.

"He did, for a bit, but a few years back things-" She stopped herself and ducked her head. "Forgive me, it's not my story to tell. He and Malfoy are not on good terms any longer."

Hermione looked at her in a puzzled fashion. Nothing seemed to appear as simple as they did. She simply nodded and sipped her tea, just as a very loud sound crashed through the manor, followed by the door flying open and a small blonde girl flying into the room.

"Mummy!" she said, "He's coming to get me!" her voice was panicked and Hermione stood instantly, ready to fight off the attacker. Just then a large man stepped around the corner with a big goofy grin on his face, arms outstretched. He saw Hermione and her stance, wand drawn, ready to fight and stood up straight.

"Hey," he said, "We're just playing."

"I know that!" the little girl cried before breaking out in hysterics. She hardly noticed another person in the room. Hermione, tucked her wand away and straightened herself.

"Yes, well," Hermione said, "No harm done. I'm Her-"

"I know very well who you are," he said, "I'm surprised you don't remember me. Goyle, Gregory Goyle."

Hermione took a step back. Now she remembered him. She didn't recognize him at first in his relaxed clothes and dirt stains, but as she peered harder, the same wide, broad shoulders and chest were there, only more defined-more Viktor Krum and less Harry Potter like.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Goyle said, "I've given up on magic. I can't master it right. Not very smart, I guess. I work here now, taking care of the vines and Ms. Monatgue's daughter as well."

"Well," Hermione said, "It's like a Slytherin gathering." Daphne laughed.

"Sometimes it's worse, when Pansy is here when my sister is h-"

She suddenly stopped talking and adverted her eyes to the floor. "Sometimes Blaise comes around," she whispered, "Though not as often as he did. Malfoy and him were, and still are I think, business partners. But you know, Malfoy just isn't here like he was."

_Something fishy is going on here,_ Hermione thought to herself. The little girl squirmed in her mothers arms and turned around to look at Hermione. Hermione smiled at the girl, her big beautiful browns eyes never leaving Hermione's face.

"Oh," Daphne said, standing up and putting the girl down on the ground, "Katherine this is Hermione Granger, from school."

"_The _Hermione Granger?" the little girl said in awe. Hermione smiled and squatted down to her level.

"The one and only," she smiled. The little girl's eyes went wide.

"That's so cool!" she shrieked, "I can't wait to tell everyone at school I met the real Hermione Granger! She knows my mummy!"

"Come on Katherine," Goyle said, "Let's go outside and play. I'll teach you how to skip rock on the lake."

"Okay!" she said, and with that the little girl bounded from the room. Goyle followed her out, followed by Daphne and Hermione. Daphne watched them from one of the hallways windows as they skipped back down to the tool barn out by the lake.

"Do you always have her?" Hermione asked. Daphne shook her head and looked at the floor.

"No," she whispered, "I rarely get to see her. This is the first time I've seen her in three months and I don't even get to be with her."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Hermione said. Daphne shook her head.

"It's not your fault. Mine, maybe, this job is just so _strange_. But then again so is Malfoy."

"So am I what?"

Hermione and Daphne turned to find a narrow man leaning against the bottom of the stairs, staring at them. He was thin, rail thin and dangerously pale. It looked like it took a tremendous amount of work for him to get down the stairs. His steel gaze fell upon them, but just as Daphne had told her, he wasn't _there_ in his own eyes. He used a shaky, black sleeved arm to push off the stairs and come towards them. His clothes looked fair too big on his skinny body, but she guessed it was the small size the had. He stepped onto the carpet and stared at them both.

"Granger," he said, identifying her, "Why are you here?"

"Draco," Daphne said, watching the way he was eyeing her, "Hermione is here to help take care of you."

Malfoy eyed her again for a moment, skeptical, but then slumped down in a chair near the wall. He heaved a big sighed and stared out the window. There was a long awkward silence between them all. Hermione looked at Daphne and Daphne looked at her.

"If you'll excuse me," Hermione said, "But I must send an owl to my...employer," she said, looking at Daphne.

"Yes!" she said, "We will be right back."

Malfoy did not move.

Daphne carefully ushered Hermione down the hall and toward the owlery. When they were safely out of hearing distance, Hermione turned to Daphne.

"He's like that, everyday?"

"Actually today is a good day," Daphne said, "He spoke."

Daphne lead her down another bright hallway before stopping in front of two heavy porch-like doors. Pushing them open it lead to a round, brightly light room, one giant floor to ceiling window bending to wrap around. There was a desk over by the window and a chair with it, the wood stocked high with letters, parchment and quills. In the very center of the room was a tight winding staircase leading upward.

"The owls are above you. Go up the stairs and there will be a door. You just pick any owl to deliver."

Hermione smiled "Thank you."

Daphne nodded and headed out of the room, shutting the doors behind her. Silently, Hermione sat down in front of the desk and gazed out the window. The serene valley gazed back at her, the sun setting over the grass creating a deep hue of red. The vineyards beyond the meadow looked almost purple in the light and beyond that the large mountains looked like beautiful black guardians, watching over the whole valley. Setting her bag down next to her, she pulled out all her notes.

_Dear Mr. Harold Gorgine,_

_I have finally found Mr. Draco Malfoy. He is in a remote location in the muggle world. In light of recent discoveries I would like to submit to you a completed article on the wizarding war. It is attached, proof-read and ready to print._

_With that I would like to request another article. I would like to write a column about Mr. Draco Malfoy and how what has happened to him as effect him. For you see Mr. Malfoy is not well and his care taker has informed me that it is a mental illness. I would like to explore the life of one of the most hated wizards in the wizarding world. I would like to make him seem...human. Perhaps you could consider it?_

_Meanwhile I will still stay here for a while, to do some research and field work. If you need to reach me you can owl me here. There are no floo channels in this place. _

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger._

Hermione signed the letter and placed it in the envelope and sealed it up. She scribbled the address across the front and climbed the stairs. Something was horribly wrong here, and Hermione was determined to understand it. What makes Malfoy go from being a pompous arse with his face splashed across every page of every tabloid to this...this _shell?_ Hermione didn't quite understand what would do this to him, but she planned to find out.

Once she had finished in the owerly she headed back the way she came. She was not startled to see that Malfoy was still slumped in the same chair that she left him in. She was surprised though, to see him there. He had heard her approaching but had not said anything, his eyes transfixed on the setting sun. He just sat there, his shallow chest rising and falling. She watched him for a few more moments before coming up and kneeling by the chair. The sun was almost down and Goyle was heading up toward the house with Daphne's daughter in tow. The little girl's lavender dress was smeared with dirt and her white socks where an interesting off white shade. Hermione watched as Goyle swept the girl into his arms and ran with her over his head, her mouth opening and laughing.

"Come on," Hermione said, "I bet the elves have dinner ready."

He didn't speak to her, onyl sat still and blinked. Carefully he moved to stand, and from her position kneeling by the arm of the chair she could hear his bones creak and crack under the pressure of movement. She watched a his thin hand grabbed for the arm of the chair, gripping it harshly.

Hermione did say anything as he moved around her. She hadn't much to say to him. She had her own opinion of him and at a time it was difficult to sway. But now, seeing him and the effort it took to simply _stand_, Hermione felt her emotions become conflicted.

Malfoy moved slowly and carefully, straightening himself up underneath his black suit and heading towards the dining hall. Hermione watched him for a moment, the way he carried himself still meant he had some self-esteem left. And it hit Hermione like a ton of bricks then. The house in the middle of nowhere, the silence in the media, everything.

He didn't want anyone to see him like this.


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